


Whippet

by bbluejoseph



Category: Trench - Twenty One Pilots (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: 1-877-LVL-CNRN, :), Brainwashing, Codes & Ciphers, Cults, DEMA (Twenty One Pilots), Dema fic, Doomsday Cults, Escape, First Kiss, Forests, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Peril, Physical Abuse, Strangers to Lovers, and what have u, chase scenes, code 20, fear of dogs, if u know top u know what im talking about, ik, is that a tag yet, isolated cabin in the middle of the woods, side character death, the game tm, tyler n josh both live, tyler uses they/them pronouns :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24795640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbluejoseph/pseuds/bbluejoseph
Summary: They were built to be lithe; it was supposed to help them run faster, and that was all they had trained for, wasn't it?Or, an injured runaway escapes their captors with the help of a stranger living in an isolated cabin in the forest. Except it's not that simple (it never is).
Relationships: Josh Dun & Tyler Joseph, Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph, Tyler Joseph & Clancy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 20





	1. panic on the brain.

**Author's Note:**

> a whippet is a dog similar in appearance to a greyhound, except smaller. they were bred to hunt by sight, coursing game in open areas at high speeds. they are possibly the fastest accelerating dog breed in the world.
> 
> tw for this chapter // injuries, abuse, blood, nightmares, knives. may be a bit intense for more anxious readers

The air was still but cold, causing Number 21's breaths to come out in soft, small clouds. They crouched as if frozen, listening intently, careful not to make a single sound. They could not afford to make a mistake.

In the distance, a dog barked.

21 let out a quick puff of breath through their nose. They were far off--far enough, anyway, for them to try to find a better method of escape. They were accustomed to running, quite a bit, actually; it wasn't exhaustion that was slowing them down. Very tentatively, they reached down, gingerly pressing their fingers over the wound on their calf. The bandage was coming off from the long night of running, and it was dirtied where it had brushed against the forest around them. Certainly, 21 was no medic, but the injury itself felt as if it had been torn open again. It was slowing them down, and they ultimately knew that it would be their end if they couldn't find another mode of transportation.

This was the first time in their memory that they had been outside of the compound. They knew, of course, what the world was supposed to look like; the Elders showed them footage of train wrecks and collapsing buildings and bloody battles and so on. Throughout the night, 21 had been running through the woods, and had not encountered any of these obstacles thus far.

Now, though, they knew civilization was close by. They could hear what sounded like a faint roar, not unlike rain; a road, if they had to guess, which they did. 21 knew that roads had cars, and cars were a means of transport. 

Not that they knew how to drive. 

The bark sounded again, closer, and 21's heartbeat raced. The brief pause in their flight had given them the time to think through what they needed to do next. Elder Nicolas always said that the speed of the mind was more difficult to achieve than the speed of the body. Assembling both at once was not something they had mastered just yet.

A tremble, then, an unsteady breath, and 21 raced off into the dark again. They could not afford to stay any longer.

They ran forward, shoes skimming the ground so neatly, so precisely. This forest was not the one they had trained in, but it seemed to be comprised of similar terrain, so running it had been familiar. The placement of the feet was deeply important in terms of silence; one misstep onto a crunchy leaf or twig could tell a threat exactly where they were. 

The roaring sound grew louder as they went on, rising and fading as a car evidently passed by. 21 ran up a short slope before arriving at what must be the road. 

A rumble, distant, growing louder, then rushing past them in a blur of metal and light; the foul scent blew into their face, and they flinched. After the car passed, 21 noticed a small building with what looked like pumps outside, just across the road; a quick refreshing of their memory told them it was a gas station. If they were lucky, the gas station would have a pay phone outside.

And then what? Who could they call? They'd never even used a phone, only seen them on the television in the rec room. They supposed they could call 911, not that it would matter. They wouldn't be able to make it in time; besides, what would they even say?

The barking came again, closer still, and a jolt of terror raced up 21's spine. Without a second thought, they bolted across the road.

Years of running, being chased in particular, had given Number 21 a single piece of primal knowledge: what it felt like to be prey. To be hunted, chased, with the threat of death panting at your heels. Sometimes instincts overrode every other urge.

Thankfully, the road was empty, but they were closer than 21 had thought. They wouldn't be able to stay ahead much longer on foot. Their only other options were to hide, or to get a ride.

There was a truck at the gas station, a blue the color of the dark sky above them. The truck was parked in place by the pump, and its owner was nowhere in sight.

The dog barked. 21 opened the passenger side door of the truck and scrambled inside.

Elder Nicolas had always told them to be one step ahead; thinking of what lie in front of them could make the present and the future easier. But those had been training exercises. This was not training. This was frightening, and rapid, and terribly, terribly real.

At that very moment, the driver's side door opened.

The owner, clearly startled by the appearance of a complete stranger in his truck--a dirty, ragged stranger no less--jumped back. "Jesus!"

21 was halfway crouched on the passenger side seat. They began to shake as the sound of the barking grew closer. A frantic "Please" was the first word to leave their lips.

That word was the first brick of a riot. Suddenly a thousand words poured from 21's mouth, so rapid and blurred with the sobs starting to rise in their throat that they weren't even sure the driver could understand them.

"Please, please, get in the car and drive. They're coming, they'll be here any minute and I don't know what they'll do to me. I swear I'm not a criminal, I swear I don't have any weapons. I'll do anything. I won't complain, I won't make a sound, just, please get me out of here."

The driver looked stunned, unresponsive for a few seconds. The sobs were hiccuping in 21's throat. If they didn't get out of here now, they would get them, and what then? They needed to get out of there. In that moment, those precious few seconds, they were filled with the desperation of an animal who knew it was about to die. It may have been the worst thing they had ever felt up until that frantic, electric moment.

"Jesus," the driver said again, and he scrambled into the passenger seat. "Jesus, fuck, alright. Alright, fine, just get down."

21 needed no further instruction, scrambling to the floor of the passenger seat. There was a blanket there, musky and worn, and they crouched beneath it, shaking, holding onto the fabric for dear life.

They couldn't see the driver, could only hear and feel as the car pulled out of the gas station parking lot. They could hear the dogs so clearly, their barks ringing through their ears as their rescuer drove the car down the road, away from the scene and into the dark of whatever lay beyond.

+

21 didn't know how long they crouched there on the floor, heart beating out of their chest. The air beneath the blanket grew hot and stuffy, making their breaths even more frantic, but they needed the shelter, and the illusion of safety that it provided. 

They couldn't hear the dogs anymore, hadn't for some time. Despite all their training, the car was much faster than they were, even at an average speed, and they must have traveled for miles before they began to realize they were out of harm's way. At least, for the time being.

The driver was quiet for a long time. Now that the immediate threat of capture was out of the way, 21's mission-focused mind had moved on to what lay ahead. What was the driver thinking? Would he throw them out of the truck? Would he turn them in to the police? What if he was going to kill him, or worse?

"You can come out now," came the driver's voice, startling 21 from their worries. "We've been driving for thirty minutes. Unless they've got cars." He paused. "Do they have cars?"

Slowly, 21 pushed the blanket off, cool air hitting the sweat that shone on their face. The driver didn't seem to have any weapons, and there was no malice in the way he had spoken. 21 carefully slid onto the passenger seat. They looked ahead at the road, then glanced swiftly to the driver. Curly dark hair, a nose ring, concerned brown eyes.

"They don't have cars," they said quietly.

"Okay." The driver let out a puff of relief, then sighed. "Jesus. Sorry, I just... was not expecting to be a taxi driver tonight." He rubbed at one eye with his hand, but kept his other eye and hand on the road. "Are you alright?"

21 stepped around the question. "You haven't seen them while you were driving? Red cloaks, white horses? They have the dogs with them, too. They're big black ones."

"No." The driver looked puzzled, then shook his head. "No, nothing like that. Most unusual thing I've seen tonight is you." 

There was a brief pause. 21 buckled their seat belt, remembering an old tape from the rec room. They pulled the blanket up onto their lap, fingers twisting in the fabric nervously.

"Where did you come from?"

21 shook their head.

"I'm being serious." The driver spoke firmly, but with a gentle air. "Why were you in my car? Who are you?"

Clearly this person wasn't going to take no for an answer. 21 took a small breath. "I had to get out of a bad situation."

The driver's voice grew softer, gentler. "A bad situation... as in abuse?"

21 shook their head rapidly. "No, no. It just... wasn't good. My, ah, my friend got out a couple of weeks ago. He said he was going to try and get me out, too, but." 

"He didn't come back," the driver guessed.

"No." 21's voice cracked. "No, he didn't. So I got out alone. I know he wouldn't abandon me by choice. I just have to hide for a little while. Then I can go find him."

"What's your friend like? Maybe I've seen him around."

They fiddled with their fingers. "He looks like me. Sort of. A little taller than I am. A little older. He has a scar on his hand.".

The driver shook their head solemnly. "I haven't seen him, I'm sorry."

21 shrugged, and looked away.

There was another, longer silence as both of them took time to process the situation. They were driving along a long, dark road much like the one 21 had emerged from the forest from. There was dark trees on either side of the road, seemingly stretching on forever.

"What's your name?" The driver asked. 

They let out a little sigh. "21."

The driver blinked. "Twenty one?"

"Yes."

"That's a number," he said, stating the obvious.

"Yes."

"Did..." the driver paused, trying to find the right words. "Did the bad situation give you that name?"

They swallowed. "Yes."

"You're not in there anymore," the driver said firmly, surprising 21. "You're out here now. Your friend is, too. Whatever you were in there, you're a new person here."

A quiet peace settled over 21. They were out. 20 was out there, and they would find him, and they would help each other get through all of this mess. The compound, at least in that moment, was far behind.

"When you started talking to me at the gas station," the driver said, "I couldn't really tell what you were saying. Your, uh, your words were running together a little bit. I almost thought you said your name was Tyler."

21 said nothing, just looked out the window.

"How about I call you Tyler for now?"

They exhaled, their breath fogging up the passenger side window. "Okay." A pause. "What do I call you?"

"Josh."

As the time wore on, 21 tried over and over to relax a little. Their muscles were still tense from the close call, and the pain in their calf was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. 

Josh didn't talk much for a while. 21 drifted in and out of a sleepy sort of daze, treading that drawn out place between asleep and awake. By the time they felt the rumbling of the car stop, they were no less tired than when they'd first hidden under the blanket.

They jolted, alarmed by the scenery around them. The truck was parked in front of a small cabin, nestled into the pines quite neatly. Behind them stretched a bumpy gravel road, leading back to the main pavement.

Josh had stopped the truck. He held the keys in his hands, fiddling with them for a second before realizing that 21 was awake. "Hey there. Welcome back."

"Where are we?" 

"My place." Josh scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Ah, I didn't want to bother you while you were asleep, but if you're alright with it, I'd like to invite you to stay here tonight. I don't know the details of your situation, but I can't just dump you somewhere if there's anything I can do to help."

21 opened their mouth, then closed it. They needed a place to stay, at least for the night. Josh seemed sincere, and the help he was offering could give 21 the resources they needed to find 20.

"You need some proper sleep," Josh added.

Another moment's hesitation, then a nod. 21 looked down at their lap. "Thank you," they added.

They couldn't be sure, but they thought Josh's face might have betrayed the hint of a smile. "Cool. Come on, then. Hand me my bag, will you?"

21 did as he asked, then climbed out of the truck the same awkward, unfamiliar way they had climbed into it. Josh led the way up the front walk, his bag slung over his shoulder, with 21 slinking silently behind.

Almost the moment Josh slid the key into the lock, 21 heard a scrambling noise, then nails on hardwood. They froze as they heard the bark of a dog.

Josh paused before opening the door, seeming to have noticed 21's fear. "Hey, it's alright. It's my dog. He wouldn't hurt a fly, I promise."

21 shook their head a bit. Of course. They were being silly. "Yeah. Sorry, I'm alright."

A final glance at 21, and then Josh pushed open the door, nudging a large golden retriever out of the way with his knee. "Get back Jim," he scolded, while the dog happily paced around him, tail wagging.

Feeling a little nervous again, 21 crept into the house and gently shut the door. Just as Josh was setting his bag on the counter, Jim seemed to notice the stranger and walked right up to them.

Perhaps 21 would have frozen again, if not for the major differences between this dog and the dogs at the compound. The dogs at the compound were large, black, with short fur and tails. This one was gold, with longer fur and a longer, fluffier tail.

It had never been 21's job to look after the dogs at the compound, but they had known enough about them to be able to tell if they were aggressive. Jim seemed quite the opposite. Carefully, they reached out a hand to let him sniff, and when Jim did, they petted the soft fur behind his ears.

"I hope this is alright," Josh said, and 21 looked up. Josh's couch had unfolded into a small bed, strewn with a few blankets like the one from the truck. It looked cozy, and 21 abruptly remembered how tired they were.

"It's great. Thank you." 21 took a few steps forward, looking about the space. There was a television set just a few feet from the end of the couch. 21 wondered if Josh watched the same tapes he did.

"I thought you might want something more comfortable to sleep in," Josh added, and held out a small pile of clothes. 

21 took them. "Thank you. I promise I'll make good on my own tomorrow."

"What?" Josh seemed puzzled, then realized. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's really no trouble."

Somehow, 21 doubted that very much.

"I'll be in here." Josh gestured with one hand to a doorway just down the hall. "The bathroom is just across from me. Don't hesitate to come get me if you need anything, okay?"

21's voice was soft. "Okay. Thank you."

Josh smiled, for real this time, then turned and went into his room, Jim following close behind. "Goodnight, Tyler."

They blinked for a second, wondering who Tyler was. Then they remembered. "Oh. Goodnight."

Then Josh's door closed, and 21--Tyler?--was left alone.

+  
__

_The knife glinted on the table beside them as they awaited the Elder. 21 was shaky, nervous, but they held their chin high, forced their legs to remain still rather than knock against the legs of the cot._

_They had gone under the knife before. It was no big deal._

_It hurt to look at it._

_The door to the room creaked open, and the crimson-cloaked figure of the Elder stepped inside. 21 bowed their head for a moment in respect, then straightened it again._

_The Elder spoke calmly. "Good morning, Number 21."_

_21 inhaled, and met the Elder's gaze. "Good morning, Elder."_

_The Elder smiled faintly, approached the table. "You'll be working on endurance today. I want you to run swiftly, but steadily. No faltering. Understood?"_

_"Yes, Elder."_

_21 watched as the Elder picked up the sharp, clean blade. "You'll be working with a fresh one today. If I recall correctly, you did well last time in terms of speed, but your perseverance could use some work."_

_They swallowed, and said nothing._

_The Elder turned to face them again. "Your left leg, please."_

_Struggling to keep their fingers steady, 21 lifted their left leg onto the cot, and rolled their pants up to their knee._

_It was no big deal. The Elder was doing this so they could improve. Every situation they were prepared for could mean lives saved. They needed to be quick. They needed to be able to take it._

_21 stared at the floor._

_"Are you ready?" the Elder asked clearly._

_No. "Yes."_

_Nothing for a heartbeat. Then, the cold of the metal slashing their calf._

_It never hurt for the first second; then it all came crashing down. 21 bit down on the inside of their cheek as the blood welled up, as the pain began to sting, then quickly turned to burning. They puffed a breath through their nose, eyes watering, but they didn't dare cry._

_After a few seconds, they lifted their head to the Elder, and nodded._

_The Elder smiled patiently. "Let's begin." ___

__+_ _

__21 woke slowly, in a bit of a haze. It was still dark out, and it was quiet in the cabin. Something had to have woken them._ _

__The moment they felt it, they shut their eyes tightly again, trying to slip back into sleep, but it was no use. The pain in their calf was intense, more so even than when it had first been inflicted. Licking their lips, 21 sat up and saw that they had kicked the blankets off in their sleep; that must have reopened it again._ _

__Hands fumbling in the dark, they touched the bandage. It was frayed, and partially unwrapped. It hurt to touch, and they drew their hand away swiftly._ _

__If they were in the compound, they could get something to help with the pain, plus a fresh bandage. They didn't exactly know exactly where in Josh's house the medical supplies might be, but he must have some somewhere. 21 didn't want to wake him. They'd just have to search quietly, is all._ _

__The bathroom seemed a good place to look. 21 stood up, and immediately winced. Okay, so they would have to hop there. No big deal._ _

__They carefully made their way through the house, largely leaning on the walls and furniture to support them properly. After entering the bathroom, they balanced on their good leg as they closed the door, flipping on the light switch. They blinked harshly a few times to adjust their eyes, then began digging through the drawers._ _

__21 found a lot of items--a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, soap. They did find some bandages, but they were rather small, and 21 doubted they would cover the injury, much less stay in place. They were also the peel-and-stick kind; they would hurt a lot to take off if they had to pull them off the wound._ _

__They found other things, too--ointments and creams and bottles full of different liquids. Surely some of them could help. The only problem--21 was a runner, not a medic.  
Trial and error was not ideal. Their frustration growing, 21 picked out a sticky bandage that almost seemed big enough and decided to just slap it on, in the hope that it would keep the injury from getting infected. _ _

__They crouched on the floor, chewing furiously on the inside of their cheek as they peeled off the dressing already on their wound. The old bandage was dirtied and torn from their escape, having taken the blunt of the run through the woods, but the wound itself didn't look great. It was oozing blood, and the skin around it was an irritated red. It was definitely going to need more than just a bandage._ _

__A soft knock at the door made them jump. "Tyler? Are you alright?" It was Josh._ _

__Tears pooled in the corner of 21's eyes. They shook their head quickly, trying to get rid of them. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine."_ _

__"Can I come in?"_ _

__They hesitated, then shifted their injured leg. Pain rocketed through it, and 21 winced. "Yeah."_ _

__The door cracked open slowly, and 21 saw Josh peeking in. Surprise glinted in his eyes, and he pushed the door open. "What the hell happened?"_ _

__21 said nothing. They had begun to tremble._ _

__All at once, Josh's gaze softened. He crouched down, glancing at 21's wound for a second before looking into their face. They were almost startled by the gentleness in his voice. "Hey. It's alright. I'll patch you up, okay?"_ _

__They hated feeling helpless like this. They hated the tears that were starting to creep down their cheeks. "Okay."_ _

__Josh gave his wound another once-over before nodding slightly. "Let's get you off the floor, alright? Is it alright if I pick you up?"_ _

__21 sniffed. "I can stand."_ _

__"I don't know if you should," Josh pointed out. "Not 'til that's bandaged up again, anyway." He waited, then, and at 21's nod, carefully scooped them up, depositing them on the counter like they weighed nothing. They did, they supposed, compared to Josh. They were built to be lithe; it was supposed to help them run faster, and that was all they had trained for, wasn't it?_ _

__They shifted carefully on the counter, pulling up the cuff off the sweatpants Josh had lent them earlier to reveal the injury again. Josh was running a washcloth in the sink; he turned the water off, wrung the cloth out, and passed it to 21. "Here, clean it up a little bit while I get you some medicine."_ _

__21 dabbed at the edges of the wound. The blood had become black on the edges where it had dried, leaving little flecks on their skin. They did their best to brush it all away, revealing how red the injury really was. It felt warm beneath their fingers._ _

__"Fuck." Josh whispered the word under his breath, but 21 still heard it. "I think you might need stitches."_ _

__They said nothing._ _

__Josh exhaled, then stepped out, returning a few seconds later with a needle and thread. He set them on the counter, then looked at 21 seriously. "I can take you to the hospital if you want. They know a lot more about this than I do."_ _

__21 shook their head swiftly._ _

__He sighed again. "I figured you'd say that."_ _

__Feeling the needle poke their aggravated skin, over and over, was agonizing. 21 clutched their fingers on the counter while Josh worked, biting their cheek so hard they could taste blood. Josh was trying hard to be gentle, they could tell, but it hurt so bad. More tears were shed, as quietly as they could manage._ _

__Once it was done, Josh opened up a little tube of some kind of salve. 21 was surprised when he offered them his hand. "It'll sting a lot when it first goes on, but it'll go away, I promise."_ _

__They bit their lip, then clutched his hand. With his other, Josh carefully applied the salve._ _

__He was right when he said it would sting. 21 gripped Josh's hand hard, a quiet whimper in their throat. The sting elevated, turning into a burning pain before abruptly disappearing, taking almost all previous traces of pain with it. 21 released Josh's hand with a relieved exhale._ _

__Josh stretched his fingers, which were red. "Better?"_ _

__21 sniffed, the tense muscles in their leg finally relaxing. They nodded once, and whispered. "Thank you."_ _


	2. world has gone insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! sorry this took a while to write. u may have noticed i changed how many chapters there will be in this book. i was originally going to do 3, but it's not as set in stone as i originally planned. i swear i do have the plot planned out!!! i just have too many ideas to fit into 3 parts. my goal is for each chapter to be at least 4k words but I've already failed that so!! fun  
> thanks to my tumble friends for inspiring & motivating me to write: bri, alaska, el, cate, bea, mars, alex, ruby, and a bunch of others 🥺 u know who u are!!  
> tw for this chapter // themes of anxiety and panic attacks

Something cold and wet brushed against 21's cheek, startling them from a peaceful sleep. Opening their eyes, they saw a big black nose, followed by soft fur and sweet brown eyes. After having successfully woken them, Jim wagged his tail and licked their face. 21 screwed up their eyes, their nose, and sat up.

There was a hissing sort of sound, accompanied by footsteps and the sound of other gentle movements. 21 looked to the kitchen and saw Josh doing something with the stove; cooking, they guessed.

Josh happened to glance up from the stove, then smiled, friendly but cautious, upon seeing 21 awake. "'Morning. Did you sleep okay?"

21 took a second, then shrugged. They were still pretty tired, not only from their escape from the compound the night before, but from waking in the early morning to the pain in their calf. They shifted their leg carefully, as a sort of test. They winced and stopped moving it.

"Hope you're hungry," Josh said, turning off the stove and carrying over a plate. They held it out to 21, who took it slowly. It was scrambled eggs, something they used to eat quite often at home. As a runner, protein was essential to their diet.

They gave Josh a small nod of thanks, then began to eat. It was the first thing they'd had since the previous evening's supper. It hadn't been that long, not really, but it felt like decades. 

Josh ate, too, from the dining room table. Neither of them spoke as they ate, too occupied with their meals to try to strike up a conversation. Jim sat at Josh's feet, tail wagging, begging for scraps. Josh would scowl at him, eyebrows furrowing, and then toss him a piece of scrambled egg. Jim always caught it.

Before 21 knew it, the eggs were gone and their stomach was full. Josh finished his soon after and got up to take their plate. A soft 'thank you' left 21's lips, followed by a genuine smile from Josh. 

While Josh made quick work of the dishes, 21 stretched their limbs--the ones that weren't injured, anyway--and began to try to piece together what had to happen next. They couldn't stay here, surely; it would be rude to take advantage of Josh's hospitality, and besides, they had to find Number 20. Walking on their wounded leg would be difficult, but they couldn't rest knowing that 20 was out there somewhere. Was he looking for them? Did he know they'd escaped?

Why hadn't he come for them like he said he would?

"Do you want a shower?"

21 tore themselves from their thoughts. Josh was holding a towel and looking at them expectantly.

They nodded and began to get up, biting their lip as they put pressure on their injured leg. Without prompting, Josh wrapped one arm around their shoulder and let them lean into him. "Shouldn't walk on it any more than you have to," was all he said.

21 wanted to thank them, but they were still biting their lip; the blood rushing to their injury was very unpleasant. Carefully, the two of them managed to hobble off the pullout couch, down the hall, and into the bathroom. A towel sat folded neatly on the counter, and there was a plastic chair in the shower. Josh helped 21 ease down into it.

"I can help you if you want," he said, pointedly looking anywhere but 21's face.

"No," they said quickly. "No, thank you. The chair is fine." They slowly propped their wounded leg on the side of the tub to prove it.

"Alright." Josh looked relieved. "Use whatever soap you want, doesn't matter. If you need help, you can shout for me, okay?"

"Thank you," 21 said again, but it still didn't feel like enough. Were they ever going to stop owing this stranger?

The shower was slow and uneventful. Difficult, to say the least, but 21 managed alone. Getting out of the shower was no picnic, but the managed, grabbing the clothes Josh had set out as quickly as possible and putting them on over their cold body. 

Josh had a mirror in his bathroom, hanging on the wall above the sink. It was a plain, rectangular thing, but it was deeply foreign to 21. Few were the occasions in their life that they had seen their own face.

Dark eyes, small nose, hair that was getting a little longer than they'd like. They had scars, lots of them, that they hadn't known were visible--on the bridge of their nose, their eyebrow, their cheek, their jaw. There was a good-sized one that disappeared into their hairline. 

21 remembered how much it had hurt. The effort it had taken not to cry out when it was inflicted.

They left the bathroom, doing their hopping sort of walk back to the pullout couch. Josh got up from his seat at the dining room table, offering to help, but 21 waved him off, hurrying the rest of the way and sinking onto the couch gratefully. They hadn't been this tired since... training, they guessed. 

Elder Nicolas had them run in all conditions. They'd run with injuries, in sickness and in health. They'd run on no sleep, too. They wouldn't be here now if they hadn't.

Still, through and through, 21 performed better when they were well-rested. Sleep was pulling at their eyelids, making them heavy. They would rest, they decided, for a few hours. Then they could get up, thank Josh, repay him in some way, and get on the move. Their urge to find 20 demanded it.

But first, sleep. Number 21 sank into the blankets easily, and exhaustion swallowed them like the sea.

They were too tired for dreams this time. The mere act of self care had overwhelmed them, which they supposed was fair, considering their escape previous. Their dozing was peaceful, but empty. 

When they woke again, it was to a light nudging of their shoulder. 21 jumped, startled, eyes wide, but it was only Josh. He looked apologetic. "Sorry. I didn't want to wake you, but you slept through lunch and I figure you need to eat."

21 glanced to the little plate in Josh's hands, which was holding a bowl of soup. "Oh. Thank you."

Josh smiled faintly and held out the soup. 21 took it and held it in their lap carefully; it smelled like chicken. It tasted like chicken, too.

They hadn't realized how hungry they were until the bowl was empty. In the time it had taken them to finish the soup, Josh had eaten some soup of his own, then turned on the television. It was small, but the colors were bright, much more vivid than at the compound. It must have been newer.

Josh seemed to notice their staring. "Wanna watch anything in particular?"

21 was quiet for a few seconds, pondering this. They doubted they'd be particularly comforted by anything the TV had to offer. The one in the rec room could show terrible things, violence of all types, warning them of what lay outside the compound. They shook their head.

Josh shrugged, and scrolled through the channels. Despite not wanting to see any sort of dark images at this point, 21 watched, because that was what they were supposed to do. They saw lots of different shows, about people and places and lives that didn't seem much like the ones 21 was used to watching.

Finally, Josh settled on a show with a deep blue screen. 21 watched, intrigued, as a blue whale slowly swam through the ocean. A narrator spoke in a calm sort of accent about the whale's diet, but 21 was uninterested in that at the moment. This, they supposed, was comforting. Exciting, too. They'd been taught about animals in the forests and deserts and oceans and so on, but they'd only ever really witnessed the ones in the forest the compound was nested in. 

Josh sat in his chair in the corner, half watching the TV and half glancing at his phone, while 21 watched, transfixed, as the show progressed, then ended, then changed to another show about big cats. 

"Don't watch many documentaries?" 

21 didn't look away from the screen, washed in pale amber light. "Is that what they are?"

Josh paused. "Yes."

"I've never seen any like this."

They watched the show about the cats, then one about tropical birds, and managed to get partway through something about deep-sea life before finally succumbing to sleep.

+

_Dark. No silence, no. The crickets were awake, providing a cover for the soft sound of 21's footsteps._

_Climbing the wall was the scariest part. Up until that point, all they had really done was get out of bed and wander the compound. They were allowed to wander at night, if they wanted, as long as they stayed away from areas that were restricted to them, and they didn't wake anyone up. They'd slipped away before a few times, to train when they were restless. Elder Nicolas even encouraged it, now and then._

_Climbing the wall meant they meant it. Climbing the wall was the first step into a world they did not understand, rife with danger. But it was also the first step towards finding 20, so it must be done._

_21 had practiced climbing before, a few times. Running was their main skill, yes, but they needed to learn to be fast traveling over all types of terrain, and so they had gone through the obstacle course that 1 and 2 used._

_The wall was very solid, difficult to get a grip on, what with the narrow, smooth spaces between the bricks that didn't provide much of a foothold. Still, 21 was able to get to the top without falling or making any loud noise._

_There was wire on the top of the fence, small and thin, and they were able to stand on it in their sneakers without much of an issue. All that was left to do was climb down._

_That was harder than climbing up, they learned, and when they were two feet from the bottom of the fence, they let go of the wall, expecting to land on solid ground. Instead, they fell into something tangled and sharp, causing them to fall to one side; it was barbed wire._

_Their hands, arms, and legs were scraped, but it didn't matter, because only a yard from the edge of the barbed wire, there was a bright orange hat._

_20's hat._

_21 scrambled free of the barbed wire, leaving several small holes in their clothes in the process, and slowly picked up the hat. It seemed almost clean, precise; deliberate. 20 had left it here for them. It was a message: I made it. You can, too._

_Without a second thought, 21 slipped their own yellow hat off, and put on 20's. It was exactly the same, save for the cover, and the tiny tag within that 21 knew had 20's number on it._

_A dog barked. One, then two, then multiple. A light, sharp, turned on from within the fence, high and mighty. They knew something was wrong. They were looking for them._

_It was time to put their skills to the test. Tucking the edges of the hat over their ears, 21 swallowed, and ran. ___

__+_ _

__It was all too easy for 21's poor body to remember the escape. The racing heartbeat, the sweat, the pain, the sheer terror that made itself known in every movement, in every flicker of the eye. 21 woke from their dream, trembling. They were shaken, disturbed, and unsure if they were really awake or if this was yet another dream._ _

__They kept their eyes shut tightly, hoping that if they stayed still that, by some miracle, the danger would pass. The dogs were still barking. _No. _No, no, how could they be barking?___ _

____It was audible, ringing in 21's ears as real as the day it had happened. Immediately, 21 shot up from the couch. They were awake, in Josh's house, and the dogs were coming._ _ _ _

____A primal fear bloomed behind their rib cage, like a tender but deadly flower. The dogs were real, and they were coming. They had to get out, they had to hide, to do something. They couldn't stay put._ _ _ _

____Moving their injured leg hurt. They were stumbling, limping, walking in the jerky, off-kilter sort of way that a long sleep always brought. 21 knew right away that they would have no chance to run. Their leg was their weakness, their liability. They had worked with the dogs, some. They had seen them hunt down lame prey, and tear it to pieces. They were as good as caught._ _ _ _

____Hiding was clearly the only other option. Shaking harder by the second, 21 stumbled through the living room and down the hall, unsure where they were going until they ended up outside of Josh's closed bedroom door. Josh! Josh was in there, wasn't he? Did the door lock? Could they hide there? Would it even matter if they did?_ _ _ _

____Hesitation could mean death. 21 pushed the door open quickly, shutting it immediately and fumbling in the dark. At least in the living room there had been the light of the moon through the windows; here, it was so dark, they couldn't see where they were going. The dogs were still barking. They could be anywhere. They could be in the house right now, poised, ready to attack._ _ _ _

____21's foot hit something soft, something with fur. They didn't try to muffle it. They screamed._ _ _ _

____Everything came alive at once. A light turned on, but 21 didn't try to stick around to see what was going to get them. They crouched to the floor, hands over their neck like they'd been taught, shaking uncontrollably, praying that whatever orders the Lords gave the dogs wouldn't be fatal._ _ _ _

____They felt a dog's breath on their arm, heard a whining sound, and a scrambling of sheets. "Tyler?" Josh's voice._ _ _ _

____They didn't move. What if it was a trick? 21 waited with bated breath, hearing the door creak open, and a brisk order from Josh. The dog that had been breathing on their arm whined, and left; they could hear it in the hallway. The door shut._ _ _ _

____"It's okay." Josh's voice again. "It's alright, it's just Jim. What happened? Are you alright?"_ _ _ _

____21 managed to sit up, back to the wall, breaths unstable. They were in Josh's room. Josh was there, and Josh's bed was there, and he was there. The dogs were not there. "Where are they?"_ _ _ _

____Josh was crouched next to him, quiet but attentive. "Where are what?"_ _ _ _

____"The dogs. I can hear them." Fear stung at their heart with each bark._ _ _ _

____"The-" Josh broke off, seemingly realizing what they meant. "Tyler, those are coyotes. They're outside. They can't get in."_ _ _ _

____21 shook their head, but listened. The barking of the dogs... it was less of a bark and more of a cry. A howling, shrieking sound. It was haunting, frightening, but not dogs. At least not the ones they knew._ _ _ _

____The sound of the coyotes, combined with the persistent pressure of the need to run, pushed 21 to the edge. They managed to look to Josh; his eyes, soft, sad, horrifically gentle, nudged them off the edge. 21 sniffed, then hiccuped, then started to cry._ _ _ _

____Tears quickly turned to sobs, heavy and _gasping _and so, so overwhelming. Their hands clutched at the hem of their shirt, knuckles white, choking on their tears.___ _ _ _

______Josh was speaking, they thought, though they weren't focusing on what he was saying, struggling to catch their breath. Josh's voice rose slightly, still gentle, but trying to get their attention. "Tyler. Hey, shh, it's gonna be okay. Can I touch you?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Tyler couldn't speak, so they just nodded. Tears blurred their vision, but they felt a hand on their shoulder, reassuring, drawing them in for a hug. Josh was warm, and gentle, and so unlike everything the compound represented that they curled up against him, hiding their tears in the collar of his shirt, unable to thank him._ _ _ _ _ _

______By the time their sobs began to die down, they were sitting on the bed, Josh still hugging them and offering comfort through soft words of reassurance. Josh had wrapped a blanket around the both of them, almost like a cocoon, and 21 found it soothing. It was a shelter, a place where Lord Nicolas and the others could not find him._ _ _ _ _ _

______The coyotes had quieted down some time ago, but as 21 began to calm down, their cries rose up again. Barking was not the word for the noise they made. It was less of an assault and more of an outcry. Still, they shrank into the cocoon._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Woof! _A true bark, then, close, deep and certain. 21 jumped.__ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Josh seemed to notice, rubbing their arm. "It's okay. It's just Jim. He's scaring them off." Indeed, after the bark, the coyotes quieted down again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The bout of crying had left 21 exhausted. Their eyes burned, their chest ached, and sleepiness once again made their mind a little foggy. They rubbed at one eye, unwilling to go back to sleep, in case another nightmare disturbed them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Do you want to lay down?" Josh offered._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________21 shook their head slowly. "This isn't my bed. This isn't my house, either," they added, the faintest of bites to their words. "I shouldn't be here. I can't pay you and I'm not helping out at all."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Josh stayed quiet for a second, then spoke. "I didn't bring you here because I wanted something from you. I brought you because you needed a place to go. You're still here because you're in no shape to be traveling on your own, and I'm guessing you don't have anyone else you can stay with."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I don't. But I shouldn't be taking advantage of you like this."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"You're not." Josh tucked the blanket around them neatly. "I wouldn't have done all this if I didn't want to."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________21 supposed he had a point. They tucked a loose piece of hair behind their ear, and said nothing. After a few seconds, they gave in and laid down on the bed. The blankets were soft, cozy, so unlike the ones in the compound. _Everything _here was so unlike the compound. It was strange, and scary, and beautiful.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Josh laid down, too, at a safe distance; the cocoon had shifted, sheltering only Tyler. They nearly missed his warmth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________His arms folded, chin resting neatly on them, Josh's eyes flicked to theirs. "You don't have to talk about whatever triggered this, but if you do, I'm listening."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Now that they had calmed down enough, they were more focused, more here and less there. Explaining the whole situation--their scars, their escape, the compound itself--would take too long and drain them too much. They stared at the sheet a few inches from their face, not wanting to meet Josh's eyes. "They realized I was leaving and they followed me. They have dogs." A pause. "I've worked with them. They're fast and dangerous. I never... expected to be on the other side of them."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Josh waited, quiet, patient._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"I was having a nightmare about that, and when I woke and heard the coyotes, I thought I was still there."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________A silence, then a small nod from Josh. "Okay. Thank you for telling me." He sat up a bit, pulled a pillow closer to 21, who promptly nestled their face into it. "You can stay here tonight if you want. I can wake you up if you have any nightmares."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________21 hesitated. Josh was kind, and giving, and everything the compound had told him the outsiders wouldn't be. For now, at least, he could trust him. "Thank you."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Josh dimmed the light, and lay still beside them. They never thought they'd sleep again, not after the nightmare, but it had left them far too tired to resist, and despite 21's best efforts, they drifted off._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	3. things are starting to get heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik this took a while!! i had the thing planned out but somehow it wasn't quite ready to let itself be written before. please let me know if i accidentally use he/him pronouns for 21/tyler

The faint dip of the mattress was, at the least, a gentler way to wake up. 21's eyes flicked open, showing the pale cream wallpaper of Josh's bedroom. The mattress shifted again, and they snapped their eyes shut again, just in case. There was the sound of fabric rustling, of some sort of drawer opening and closing. 21 took care to be still until they heard the faint creak of the bedroom door, then nothing at all.

They sat up. Josh was gone; he must have been the one moving around. The clock on the bedside table read '5:51' in big red numbers. It was mostly quiet, with faint light coming in from the curtains. 

Morning had arrived at last. It had been a long night, what with the nightmare, and the unfamiliarity of sleeping in someone else's bed. Sleeping on the couch had been weird, of course, but 21 hadn't really had someone next to them there. 

Josh had been quiet, at least. Quiet, hadn't touched them; hadn't disturbed them at all, actually. 21 pulled Josh's quilt around their shoulders and over their head like a hood. They were cautious, and careful, because they had to be. 

It had been nice. Tentatively, 21 settled on that. It had been nice.

There was a faint click from the door, then, and 21 pulled the blanket tighter around them. A figure stepped into the room so gingerly, clearly trying not to make much noise; they could tell it was Josh without seeing him. 

They watched silently as Josh crossed the room, pushing the curtains open further in order to let in more light. He turned back to the bed, then, smiling a little when he saw them. "Good morning."

"Good morning," they returned, hushed.

"Feel any better?" 

21 shrugged. They were a little less skittish, maybe, but it was hard to tell. Their muscles felt achy, like they'd gone on a long run, and their breaths didn't feel quite right; smaller, softer, like a rabbit. It was like walking on eggshells.

They inhaled, then exhaled. "I need to find 20."

Josh's eyebrows furrowed. "You need rest, is what you need, if the circles under your eyes mean anything."

"I've rested long enough. He could be anywhere, okay? He could be hurt or, lost." 21 chewed on the inside of their lip. "We're family."

Josh seemed about to argue, then stopped. "How about I look for him?"

21 blinked. "You don't know what he looks like."

"Describe him."

They shook their head slightly. "No. I've used up enough of your food, and your water, and your time."

"You haven't wasted anything," Josh insisted. When 21 looked away, he reached out a hand, then stopped, as if thinking better of it. "You're not a waste, Tyler."

To their dismay, they felt tears starting to pool in their eyes. Quickly, they blinked a few times. "That's not my name."

"Not unless you want it to be."

There was a pause between the two, lingering somewhere on the edge of awkwardness and patience. It was all just so much. Being here. Not being there. Maybe they should have just stayed. Maybe they would've gotten more injuries, more scars in the pursuit of perfection, but they would be safe, right? Safe from... something.

"They gave me my name," they said slowly. "I'm Number 21. I have been, forever."

This time, Josh did touch them; his hand came to rest on their knee through the blanket shrouding their fragile body. They should have flinched away. They didn't. "But you don't have to be."

Another pause, shorter this time, before 21 let out a small sigh, linking their fingers together in their lap. "20 looks a lot like me."

Josh perked up, acknowledging their acceptance of his offer. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. We all kind of look alike. Dark hair and eyes. Sorta tan." 21--Tyler--went on. "20 is taller than me by a couple inches. He's skinnier, too. And he has a scar under his left eye."

"Okay."

"And his jacket." 21 glanced around the room, then remembering that their jacket was in the living room. "It's just like mine, except the yellow bits are orange. And anywhere on my jacket where it says 21? His says 20."

They expected another affirmation, but Josh just looked... sad. He looked sad. "They numbered you?"

"Yes."

"How many of you are there?"

"Twenty-one." They let out a soft puff of breath. "I'm the last one."

Josh left alone, but promised to return before dinner. He made Tyler breakfast, even though they weren't hungry, and he told them to take whatever they want from the fridge. He checked the wound on his calf, which looked a lot better than it had been, despite the rough night they had. He showed them how to use the landline phone in case there's an emergency, even though Tyler knew they wouldn't be using it. Whatever authority there was in this world probably wouldn't know what to do with them; they didn't know what to do with themselves.

It was quieter, somehow, with Josh gone, even though he wasn't exactly loud before. Perhaps it was knowing that they were alone. No human company, just four walls, and the bed and the blankets and the sandwich Josh had made them.

21 took a bite of the sandwich, after a while. It was two slices of whole wheat bread, a fried egg, a piece of cheese, and some sort of meat; bacon, if they had to guess. It had cooled down considerably by the time they felt hungry, so it wasn't quite as good as they would have hoped, but they took a few bites anyway.

Their distress had lost them, for a moment, but now it was time to get back on track, if they could. Tyler ate half the sandwich, drank the water Josh had left for them, and laid back down in the blankets, knowing that a bit of sleep would do a world of good.

There was one thing that 21 needed to be good at in order to push through the challenges set before them by Lord Nicolas, and that was recovery. It was essential that they were able to recover from a wound as quickly as possible so they could perform well. A poor mental state was different, but they could try to help it anyway by looking after themselves as they normally would.

Sleep was proving difficult, however. Burrowing under the blankets helped, but it could only do so much. Tyler let out a quiet huff of frustration.

Abruptly, there was a scratching noise just outside the bedroom, and they saw the door swing open. Heart pounding, they ducked fully beneath the blanket, still as a mouse.

Pawsteps, soft, approached the side of the bed. They dared to peek out from their shelter, and were greeted by Jim's big brown eyes.

Forcing themselves to relax, they reached out a tentative hand to pet his soft golden fur. A hushed "Hello" passed their lips.

Jim wagged his tail. He put one paw up on the bed, then the other, then all four as he leapt up to lay down beside them. 21 flinched, then relaxed as Jim settled his head on his paws for a nap. 

That was how Tyler spent most of their day; dozing with Jim at their side. Periodically they would wake, eat a bit of sandwich, drink some water, then go back to sleep. Sometimes they hobbled to the bathroom, or got a fresh glass of water. They felt worn out, frayed at the edges, too drained to do much else.

The only active change came when, at last, 21 heard the sound of a car pulling up to the house. Jim leapt down from the bed, startling them awake fully as he ran to the front door, tail wagging. Tyler sat up sharply, alert, and listened carefully. They heard the door open, and the warm sound of Josh's voice greeting Jim. 

A heartbeat later, Josh poked his head into the bedroom, smiling upon seeing Tyler awake. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Better," they said, meaning it. "Did you find him?"

Josh shook his head slightly. "No, but I talked to someone who did."

A mixture of relief and excitement gripped Tyler's heart. "Who? Where?"

Josh sat down on the edge of the bed. "There's this ranch outside of town that my friend Mark owns. He was out front when I drove by, so I stopped and we talked for a minute. I didn't even mention your friend, he brought him up on his own."

"What happened?"

"He said he saw some trespasser on the edge of his property. He looked real dirty, scraped up, like he'd been on foot for a while," Josh explained. "Mark called out to him, but he booked it immediately. I asked if he had any defining features and he mentioned that he was wearing a weird jacket, just like the one you told me about."

20 was alive! Bedraggled and exhausted, perhaps, but alive. 21 dropped the blanket from around their shoulders, moved to the edge of the bed to get up. "Which way was he going?"

"East." Josh looked a little hesitant. "But, Tyler, he's not there now. Mark saw him a week ago."

Their heart sank. "He's got to be nearby. We can look for him."

"We will, I promise. But it's late now. Wherever he is, he's probably hiding, and besides, it'll be harder to search at night." Josh's gaze was gentle, cautious. "Tomorrow, okay?"

Tyler was reluctant, but he did have a point. "Okay."

There were an infinite amount of differences, it seemed, between the compound and what lay outside of it. The water in Josh's shower, for instance, could go from hot to cold and anywhere in between with just a twist of the knob. Josh had three different types of soap, and big fluffy towels, and a whole stack of washcloths on a shelf. Tyler used one to scrub the grease and dried tears off of their face.

Tyler. An interesting name, for someone who had always been a number. They wondered if it meant anything.

They showered, carefully, though they must admit that their calf was far better than it had been, and they even tentatively washed around the stitches with cool water. It wasn't painless, for sure, but it wasn't agonizing, and it needed to be kept clean in order to avoid infection.

They weren't a medic, not like Number 20, but they knew a few basic things. 20 was a medic, a good one. They had looked after 21's injuries many times; hands on practice was essential for their training. Ultimately, it had been his concern over the worsening injuries they'd been receiving that had pushed him over the edge.

He hadn't said that, exactly, but 21 had been raised with them, with the others. They could see it, the worry etched into his face. Lord Nicolas had been working them harder and harder as they got older, moving from no injuries to small cuts or bruises to bigger wounds. 

"It's all about tolerance," the Lord said, each time Tyler made it to the clearing where he waited atop his horse. "It's about building up your strength, learning to push yourself, becoming better. Every step you take in a poor state will be a step faster in your best state."

And 21 understood. It hurt so much. Lord Nicolas would let 20 treat their wounds about half the time. The other half was spent laying awake in bed at night, because it hurt too much to sleep, or because every time they shifted in their bed they were jolted awake by the pain. A few of the worst injuries had left blood smeared on the inside of their sheets, a sort of branding. 

In some way, they understood what the Lord was talking about; and of course, being bound to the compound and all ten of the Lords, they had to do what they asked.

That didn't make it hurt any less. That didn't quiet the distant part of their brain that knew this was wrong.

21 had done their best to push aside their feelings about it, in favor of the greater good, but 20 had been unable to. He had never been injured on the job, not like 21 had, and they could see the pain crossing his face when he stitched up wound after wound. All of them were supposed to be close, but 21 and 20 had been like brothers. 

The day before he left, 20 was very quiet. He told them that they deserved better than this, that they all did. To be treated like humans instead of machinery. 

"I feel like one of the foals first learning to stand on its own," 20 had admitted to them, just before they went their separate ways to sleep. "I have to do it on my own, at least at first, and it has to be done now. I'll come and teach you once I've figured it out."

21 had suspected, maybe, that something was off, but they wouldn't know for sure until headcount tomorrow morning. This was the closest 20 would get to saying they were planning to escape. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

20 knit his eyebrows together, shook his head, and put a hand on 21's shoulder. He looked seriously into their face, and 21 looked into theirs, and they saw... sadness, there. Grief. Fear, too, but an atom bomb's worth of determination.

"Don't look for me," 20 said sternly. Then he went to bed.

21 hadn't seen him since. 

Tomorrow. They'd find a hint, a clue, as to where 20 was now. In the meantime, they showered. They got dressed, in clothes Josh had set out for them. They hobbled out of the bathroom, on a walking stick Josh said he'd found in the garage. It was a poor crutch, at best, but it was certainly better than nothing.

Josh himself was standing at the stove, cooking something in a big pot. He hummed faintly as he stirred, and the sound mingled with the faint breath of the burner, and the dappling of the rain that was beginning to fall outside. Tyler stood, quiet, in the hallway, for just a moment. 

Then Josh looked up from the stove, and smiled, gesturing Tyler over. They made their way into the kitchen, sitting down on the nearest chair at the dining room table. 

"I hope you like spaghetti," Josh said. He picked up some sort of bowl with holes in it. "Sorry, I don't have any garlic bread."

"I don't know what that is," 21 admitted.

Josh put a hand over his heart, made a pitiful face. "Oh, my God. You poor thing."

They laughed. A small laugh, maybe more of a giggle, but it was the first time they'd laughed in ages. They'd forgotten how nice it felt; a sort of cheerful bubbling that tickled at their ribs.

Tyler watched as Josh strained the pasta, put it back in the pot, and mixed in some sort of sauce. Then he took some back out of the pot and put it on a plate, which he set neatly in front of them. "Dinner is served."

"What is it?"

"Pasta with tomato sauce." Josh sat down in the chair across from them and started eating.

Needless to say, it was nothing like they had eaten before. It was pretty damn good. So good that they ate all of it, even though it was more than they would've had at the compound, and when Josh offered them a second plate, they said yes.

After dinner, they sat for a bit and watched some shows on the television, a lot like the ones they had seen the other night; oceans and deserts and towering forests, all beautiful and all inhabited by strange fauna. Josh watched, too, although he seemed tired, and after a while, he asked if Tyler would be alright sleeping out in the living room. 

"You don't have to," he added swiftly.

"No, it's fine." The idea of sleep daunted them, but they dared not show it. They pulled the blanket they'd been using up to their chin. "I'll stay here."

"You can come in at any time if you need to," Josh promised. "Okay? Seriously. Don't worry about waking me up. It's not a big deal."

Maybe to someone else, this would have sounded overly reassuring, but 21 found it nice. "Thank you."

"Do you want me to leave the set on?"

Tyler shook their head.

After the show ended, and the clock grew near eleven, Josh shut off the television, and bid them goodnight, Jim following him down the hall. 21 could barely see Josh's bedroom door from the couch, but if they craned their neck just a little, they could see that it was propped open. Just a bit.

They were left to their own devices.

Those devices, in order, were as follows: a fluttering, twitching sort of nervousness. A slow but creeping sense of dread. Suspicion and paranoia, making them eye at the shadows in the corners of the cabin. Fear, which ultimately led to anxiety.

Sleep was nowhere to be found.

If they lay there, blanket draped over them entirely, and stayed very still, they felt that perhaps they were out of sight. Not invisible, exactly, but unnoticeable. If they didn't move, didn't make a sound.

Distress built up in their bones over the next two hours, until it became a gnawing, persistent ache, and 21 was unable to take it any longer. They sat up stiffly, tossing off their blankets, fumbling in the dark for the walking stick. 

No, no, the walking stick made noise. If they wanted to avoid any sort of detection, they would need to be quiet. Cautiously, 21 put weight on their wounded leg, clenching their fingers on their nightshirt, then letting go. It hurt, but it wasn't too bad. Didn't feel like the stitches were going to rip open, at least.

The rain had stopped some time ago, but now it was windy. The branches creaking, the air making a hushing sort of noise as it blew through the pine needles, were continuous.

Almost the moment 21 stood up, leaning firmly on their good leg, they realized that they didn't know where they were going. Not outside, certainly. But then where?

Several minutes were spent limping around, anxiety tugging at their veins, before they finally ended up outside Josh's room. Peeking through the crack revealed nothing; all the lights were off. The wind covered up whatever soft breaths of sleep might be coming from inside.

It was fair to assume, though, that Josh was asleep, and despite his offer, 21 was unable to make themselves go inside. Pushed one way by fear, pushed the other by guilt, they were left in the middle: crushed, curled in on themselves. They sank to the floor outside the bedroom without a sound, leaning against the wall and pulling their knees to their chest. It wasn't ideal, no, but it would have to do. A stasis that would last until morning.

Or, it would have, had someone not heard him. A soft thud came from inside the bedroom, smaller footsteps. A wide golden brown head stuck out from the crack in the door, then nudged it open. Fear struck their heart like lightning, but died just as quickly as they realized it was just Jim.

He sniffed at Tyler's knee, then licked it. They debated whether or not to pet him, but before they could work up the courage to move, Jim had already gone back into the bedroom. They felt disappointed, for a moment, then frightened when they heard shuffling from inside the room. They tried to get up, but were unable to before Josh came shuffling out.

Josh didn't seem too surprised to see them there. His brow furrowed, though, and he frowned. "Where's the walking stick?"

Their voice was barely a whisper. "I left it."

No more words were needed. Josh reached out a hand, and after just a second of hesitation, Tyler took it.


End file.
